20120725

Lips and teeth are the nation's dig - crazy in the end on the bachelor
With the dams to understand the dream tile shares - play it enough to see
The root of all evil, such as hot body is of course the servant broken.
What people Oh! Obstetrics and gynecology and other pathogens and rice bran
Horses sent every day the first batch of his hands - and hot spots
You see that the Department of the eco-black and anti-shares Twist
A hot spot for Mark Pop Day - stability is the same
Such as - to climb Germany
When winter comes to an end

2.

Phosphorus in the Gulf of blood
Towards the blood
I imitate blood
Indulge blood
Man only of blood
The city's blood
Not only the blood
Erase exposure to blood
All blood orchid
Blood is the navigation

3.

It is a good example with bad love
Buddy was filming a strange eagle
Only to the roots outside the door of your fireworks
Switching it to floss, faded tool
I get there, right there and the next issue of the picture
I Do not fire
Erase half of the wise men I wait ovulation
Shine your initiative, pig

I hear this word every day: normal.
People say it as if it carries weight,
as if there was some order to things.
Perhaps there is, just not theirs.
They preach of how things work
(what, when, how they're supposed to do):
dictate mechanics from tired models.
Their spoiled eyes look, but don't see -
replace, not embrace.
Now I've seen some things,
I'm not old, but I've been around,
and "normal" has not come into my view,
for each day I have lived here,
and I don't mean just existed -
actually lived -
the product of normality became harder to buy.
So they view me with scorn
when I can't explain
what I'm doing later, or
why this doesn't work right,
it just isn't normal.
I'd like, one day, to visit this place
that you're always referring to
where normal folks lead predictable lives;
where statistics are gospel.
Is that where you're from,
Cheechako?

Look, I'm sorry that things aren't exactly like whatever brought you up here made it seem,
but it's not like we live in a brochure where every day is picturesque and perfect.
Whether you were run out on a rail or left on your own volition, it's all the same,
because you are stuck here now, the bridge burned, and it is easier just to play along.
Suggest, lecture, preach;
you're just a Cheechako.

Why can't you see how you fuck up our town then fuck up my carpet with your dirty shoes?
It's not like there is a formula or protocol to living a good life up here.
Just understand that this place can kill you. You are not as alone, immune, as you think;
you aren't removed, we can see you clearly. Now, stop being an asshole and just accept.
Suggest, lecture, preach;
you're just a Cheechako.

Yuppies, white trash, hipsters, christers - let my people go!
Yes you could say we stole this land, but until the day we give it back
Let's keep it the best we can;
Let's keep it wild;
Let's keep it clean;
Let's keep it from ourselves,
because we once
suggested, lectured, preached;
we were just Cheechakos.